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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202139">Science, Fiction, and Fantasy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs'>Seraphtrevs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, past Gus/Max</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:40:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Gale was not Max’s replacement.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>How could he be, when Max was irreplaceable? No, Gustavo merely needed someone who knew the science and had the moral flexibility to work with him. Not a partner. Not a friend. Not anything more.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Still. Gustavo wasn’t blind to the similarities...</i>
</p><p>While visiting Gale, Gustavo uncovers a secret.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gale Boetticher/Gustavo Fring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbriars/gifts">greenbriars</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This work is two chapters - I just posted them at the same time. 😂 So be sure to click through!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gustavo didn’t enjoy fiction.</p><p>As a child, survival was always a more pressing matter—he had little energy left to care for the fates of made-up people. Maybe other little boys could dream of being cowboys and superheroes. Gustavo dreamed of a full stomach, of clothes that fit, of shoes for his bare and bloodied feet. All of that was as fantastical to him as any comic book.</p><p>When he grew older, ambition joined survival as his animating forces, and he had even less attention to spare. He used his imagination to see the potential in the real world—potential that others missed because they were well-fed and too busy dreaming of things that could never be. While they built castles in the air, he built fortunes in reality. Far more satisfying.</p><p>Max had been different.</p><p>He came from the slums, the same as Gustavo. He hunted opportunity, too. But his imagination was so huge and dazzling that it could encompass multiple worlds, real and imagined, with attention left to spare. Gustavo had never met someone so aware of potential—who saw possibilities in places Gustavo would never dream.</p><p>It’s what attracted Gustavo to him at first. Not as a romantic partner—as a valuable asset. Gustavo’s funding of his education was not a benevolent act. It was the sharpening of a tool he could use.</p><p>It didn’t stay that way for long. Max had such beautiful dreams, impossible to resist. And those dreams included Gustavo, for reasons he could never fathom.</p><p>But it was a mistake to dream, just as he’d always suspected. The vultures and wolves set upon them with talons and teeth, ripping that beautiful dream to shreds.</p><p>He doubted he’d ever let himself dream again.</p><p>***</p><p>Gale was not Max’s replacement.</p><p>How could he be, when Max was irreplaceable? No, Gustavo merely needed someone who knew the science and had the moral flexibility to work with him. Not a partner. Not a friend. Not anything more.</p><p>Still. Gustavo wasn’t blind to the similarities. Gale had Max’s enthusiasm—an irrepressible eagerness for the possible. He had his curiosity, if his apartment was anything to go by, which Gustavo took in as he sat on the couch while Gale made their tea.</p><p>A hookah pipe sat on the table in front of him. Propped up on another table was a lute. A telescope peered out the window. Photographs of mountaineering decorated the walls—his photography, presumably, if the collection of vintage cameras perched on a shelf was any indication. Unusual plants dominated one corner. A clock made from a potato ticked surreally on a shelf. And everywhere, stacks of books.</p><p>Cluttered, but not messy. Everything here had a cherished place. Controlled chaos.</p><p>Max's place had been much the same.</p><p>“Which kind of tea would you like?” Gale asked from the kitchen. “Or do you want me to surprise you?”</p><p>Gustavo stretched his mouth into a genial smile. People found it warm and genuine. It was easier to achieve with Gale than with others. “Surprise me.”</p><p>Gale looked over his shoulder with a smile of his own—nothing practiced about it. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He set two cups on a bamboo tray and fetched mesh strainer balls and a couple of cannisters from the cupboard. He carefully filled each ball with loose leaves and placed one in each cup before turning his attention back to the kettle. A bead of red appeared on the silver as he pointed his infrared thermometer at it.</p><p>Briefly, Gustavo wondered if the thermometer was a prop meant to impress him—<em> you see, Mr. Fring, I’m meticulous in everything I do! </em>But he dismissed the idea. No, this was not a put-on. It most likely never occurred to Gale <em>not</em> to use an infrared thermometer to make tea.</p><p>“There we are,” Gale said cheerfully. “Seventy-one point one degrees Celsius for yours.” He removed the kettle from the burner and poured the water into one cup, then returned it to the flame. “And a bit more heat for mine.”</p><p>“Does the water temperature matter that much for different varieties of tea?” Gustavo asked, not out of genuine curiosity, but to give Gale the chance to explain to him. Gale still hesitated too much when Gustavo asked questions—not from dishonesty, but because Gustavo intimidated him. He needed to get used to explaining things to Gustavo. Their arrangement wouldn’t work otherwise.</p><p>Besides, Gustavo enjoyed Gale’s enthusiasm.</p><p>Gale’s eyes lit up. “Oh yes, very much! With tea, it’s all about the subtle differences. All tea comes from the same plant—<em>Camellia sinensis. </em>The different varieties merely reflect at which point in its growth the tea is plucked, and how it’s processed.” He pointed the thermometer at the kettle again—not quite ready yet, it seemed. “The younger a tea is, the cooler you want the water, or else it scalds. The older teas can take a little more heat.”</p><p>“So you’re giving me a young tea?”</p><p>Gale laughed—a chirp, like a bird. “Yes. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” He raised the thermometer again—satisfied this time. He shut off the burner and poured the water into the second cup.</p><p>A few more minutes of fussing and the tea was done. Gale brought the tray over to the couch and set it on the coffee table.</p><p>“And which one is mine?” Gustavo asked.</p><p>Gale pointed to the cup on the right. “Sugar?” he asked.</p><p>“No thank you.” Gustavo picked up the cup and took a sip. He’d never had anything quite like it.</p><p>“What do you taste?” Gale asked.</p><p>He took another sip. “It’s… floral, almost.”</p><p>“Yes! That’s Bai Mu Dan white tea—harvested just before the leaves and buds are fully open. A subtle, sophisticated flavor. It takes a sensitive palate to appreciate it.”</p><p>Flattery, but sincere. Gustavo nodded to Gale’s cup. “And what are you drinking?”</p><p>“Tieguanyin—a type of oolong. The name roughly translates to ‘Iron Goddess of Mercy’.”</p><p>“And what does the tea of the goddess of mercy taste like?”</p><p>“A little nutty, with a surprisingly sweet aftertaste.”</p><p>Was that a wink? Gale seemed much more at ease in his little realm. It was a good idea for Gustavo to come. He wanted Gale to be comfortable with him.</p><p>They took a few moments to appreciate their tea. It really was excellent; Gustavo had expected nothing less. “So you are happy with your new equipment?” Gustavo asked eventually.</p><p>Gale set his cup down. “Happy doesn’t begin to cover it, Mr. Fring! I’ve never had the opportunity to work with equipment of such caliber, and I swear to you, I won’t let you—”</p><p>“Gale,” Gustavo interrupted, gentle but firm. “I have every confidence in you. You don’t need to keep reassuring me. And please, call me Gus.”</p><p>“All right, <em>Gus</em>.” The name came out almost like a hiccup, and he let out an awkward laugh as a flush spread over his cheeks. “Sorry.”</p><p>Gustavo tilted his head. “Why are you sorry?”</p><p>“Oh—I don’t know. I’m just—awkward.”</p><p>Gustavo took pity on him and changed the subject. “Did you really climb Everest?” he asked, nodding to one photograph on the wall.</p><p>“Yes!” he said, his enthusiasm returning. “A tremendous experience—although it’s sad. Did you know that there’s a bunch of trash up there? There’s no way to clean it up, so whatever gets left there stays. For my next big hike, I’ll go somewhere less commercial. Mount Khuiten in Mongolia, maybe. It’s extremely remote—it’d be a real adventure.” He flexed his hands around his cup. “That’s what I’m using the money for. Adventures.”</p><p>Interesting. Gustavo had wondered. He’d yet to meet someone who couldn’t be bought. However, the more he got to know Gale, the less it made sense that he would risk so much for money. There wasn’t a trace of greed in him.</p><p>Gus smiled. “I can’t think of a better use for it.”</p><p>Gale flushed again. “Really?”</p><p>“Really.” Gustavo laid a hand on his shoulder. Gale was soft under his touch—not just the smooth fabric of his well-worn T-shirt, but the flesh below had a pleasant yield to it, like touching a toy bear. He imagined his hair would be soft too, with its wispy curls like lamb’s wool.</p><p>Gustavo took his hand away. Where had that thought come from?</p><p>“My parents were overprotective, but as soon as I got out on my own—” His voice shifted. “<em>Something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.</em>” He paused. “Ah, that’s from a book. It always spoke to me.”</p><p>He didn’t recognize the word <em>Tookish</em>. “A lovely sentiment,” he said.</p><p>They chatted more about Gale’s plans for adventures—not just mountains, but cities and seas, savannahs and jungles, the arctic and the tropical. He wanted to see it all. When they finished their tea, Gale brought the tray to the kitchen. Gustavo stood and browsed his bookcases—plenty of science titles, but lots of literature too.</p><p>His gaze lit upon a folder decorated with lightning and titled <em>Lab Notes</em>. He recognized it from the other day, when they had unveiled the new lab equipment together. Curious, he picked it up and began leafing through it—</p><p>—only to have it snatched from his hands moments later. “Sorry!” Gale squeaked and then cleared his throat. “There’s some… personal material in there.”</p><p>Gustavo blinked in astonishment at Gale’s flushed face. He seemed almost panicked. “My apologies,” he said. “I should not have been nosy.”</p><p>Gale tucked the folder under one arm and rubbed his neck. “I mean, it <em>is </em>labeled lab notes—you couldn’t have known.” He let out a nervous titter. “I should separate things out, but everything is all whorled together in the ol’ noggin.” He tapped his temple. “Sorry,” he repeated.</p><p>Gustavo used his warmest smile again. “Think nothing of it. The fault is mine.” He gave Gale another pat. “I have enjoyed our conversation, but I’m afraid I must be going. We should talk more soon.”</p><p>“Of course, Mr. Fring.”</p><p>“Gus,” he corrected gently.</p><p>“Right. Gus.” He smiled a little. Shy. Sweet. <em>Soft</em>.</p><p>Gustavo turned the encounter over in his mind as he walked to his car. What was in that folder? He didn’t suspect Gale of anything duplicitous, but at the same time…the reaction had been odd. He pulled out his cell phone.</p><p>Mike picked up on the first ring. “Yeah?”</p><p>“There’s a document I need to see, without it being known that I’ve seen it.”</p><p>An affirmative grunt, and then, “Give me the details—I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>Gustavo filled him in and shut the phone with a satisfied snap. It was nice to have people to rely on. Hopefully after he saw what was in that folder, he could still count Gale among them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mike brought his findings to Gustavo at the chicken farm office two days later, packed in a neat manila envelope. He opened it, revealing photos of Gale’s notes.</p><p>“Was damn hard to get a hold of,” Mike said. “He doesn’t let it out of his sight often.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Gustavo said.</p><p>“Anything else you need from me?”</p><p>Gustavo motioned with his chin towards Victor, who sat in the corner frowning over some surveillance photos. “Victor could use some assistance, I believe. A minor security issue.”</p><p>Mike joined Victor while Gustavo sifted through the photos. There were the expected scientific notations, but the rest was a hodgepodge of various items—poetry quotations, notes on potential adventure destinations, recipes—one for vegan marshmallows, which made Gustavo smile. Nothing seemed overtly personal.</p><p>Until he came to a page written in a language Gustavo had never seen. Perhaps it wasn’t even a language—a cypher, maybe? Amidst the unrecognizable words were his name and Gale’s. It went on for several pages and then stopped. At the bottom of the last page was a quote in English. <em>Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.</em></p><p>Gustavo called Mike over. “What do you make of this?”</p><p>Mike scratched his head. “I wondered the same thing. It’s got your name in it.”</p><p>“Yes, I noticed.”</p><p>Mike rubbed his mouth. “I’ve got an old buddy from the army who was a code breaker. I can get in contact with him, if you want.”</p><p>Victor joined them and looked over Mike’s shoulder. “Looks like Elvish,” he said.</p><p>Gustavo and Mike stared at him. “Elvish?” Gustavo asked.</p><p>“You know, from <em>Lord of the Rings</em>.” When Gustavo and Mike continued to stare, he went on. “The epic fantasy novels by J. R. R. Tolkien? They made them into movies.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Mike said finally. “I remember now.”</p><p>Gustavo did not. “Can you read this language, then?”</p><p>Victor snorted. “I’m not that big of a nerd.”</p><p>“You want me to take this down to the local comic shop or something?” Mike asked. “Get it translated?”</p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” Gustavo said after a moment. He slid the photos back into the envelope. He was no longer worried that Gale might harbor a dangerous secret.</p><p>Gustavo could research the rest on his own. Surely he could find some dictionary on the Internet. Because whatever was in that document was not dangerous, but it <em>was</em> personal, and he would not permit anyone else to see it.</p><p>* * *</p><p>Tracking down a website of Elvish was not difficult. After dinner, Gustavo sat down with a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and set to work.</p><p>Every scientist Gustavo had ever known harbored a passion for one science-fiction franchise or another. For Max, it had been <em>Star Trek</em>. Gustavo had never understood the appeal. It seemed silly—the ridiculous alien make-up, the far-fetched plots, the hammy acting. But Max loved it with all of his heart, and Gustavo loved Max with all of his, and so he would watch with him.</p><p>Max would call Gustavo his Vulcan. He assured Gustavo it was a compliment.</p><p>Sometimes Max would babble about warp cores and dilithium crystals, and Gustavo would just close his eyes and allow his incomprehensible babble to wash over him. It soothed him like a lullaby. He missed it so much he ached sometimes.</p><p>This <em>Lord of the Rings</em> must be Gale’s <em>Star Trek</em>—a safe place for him. Max tried time and again to explain the optimism of <em>Star Trek</em>—how it showed a better world was possible. What comforting message did <em>Lord of the Rings</em> give Gale?</p><p>He would know soon enough.</p><p>It took about three hours to translate the passages. It was a brief story—a “fic,” as he learned it was termed—about a hobbit by the name of Gale, who lived his whole life wishing to be special. One day, a mysterious elf named Gustavo came into the Shire (which is where the hobbits lived) with an important but dangerous mission that would require skills only Gale possessed, although Gale was a lowly hobbit and not worthy of such attention.</p><p>The story was not long and had no conclusion. The hobbit Gale left with the elf Gustavo, off for an adventure together, but what that adventure might be was left unsaid.</p><p>The quote in English at the end was from the poet Walt Whitman, who Gale had mentioned in other parts of his lab notes. He looked up the full poem, which read:</p><p>
  <em>O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.</em>
</p><p>Gustavo read the translated story again. It struck him as sad that even under the cover of fiction, Gale was too hesitant to have what he wanted. What in Gale’s life had made him feel this way? The world was often cruel to great minds.</p><p>He built a fire in the fireplace and burned the photographs and the translated story. He drank another glass of wine as he watched Gale’s words become ash. Gustavo wasn’t comfortable with fiction.</p><p>He was, however, much better with reality.</p><p>***</p><p>Gustavo waited a few weeks before deploying his plan. The holiday season had begun, which gave him a perfect excuse.</p><p>“You’re inviting me to dinner?” Gale was breathless over the phone. “At your place?”</p><p>Gustavo cradled the phone and smiled. “Yes. Are you available?”</p><p> A pause. “Of course, Mr. Fring. I am always at your disposal.”</p><p>“Gus,” he corrected. “And this is not a business dinner. You are free to refuse.”</p><p>“No!” Gale said quickly. “No, I would love to come. Only…”</p><p>“What?” Gustavo prompted when he didn’t continue.</p><p>“Well, I’m a vegan. I don’t want to make trouble for you.”</p><p>“That is something I can happily accommodate.” He shifted his tone to something even softer. “Please, I would love some company for the holidays. I have no family here.” He had no family anywhere, but he did not say that.</p><p>“Then I’ll be there with bells on!” Gale’s grin was audible. “I’ll bring dessert.”</p><p>Gustavo hung up the phone and wondered if Gale would actually show up in bells.</p><p>***</p><p>Gustavo generally decorated for the holidays. Nothing too fancy—lights on the house, a Christmas tree in the window. He chose the décor with clinical precision. It wasn’t something he enjoyed; he just knew it would be expected of him. Camouflage, like everything else in his life.</p><p>He had also hosted Christmas dinners with local business and community leaders. That wasn’t something he enjoyed, either.</p><p>Now, for the first time that he could remember, he looked forward to a holiday meal. Gustavo had found a recipe for a vegan Christmas dinner—a savory nutloaf with mushrooms, walnuts, and cashews; butternut squash stuffed with chestnuts, cranberries, and biscotti rice; garlic roasted cauliflower; and carrots cooked in cinnamon. In all his years of cooking, he’d never attempted a meal like this. <em>Cruelty free</em>, as the author of the recipe book had said.</p><p>Gale arrived promptly on time—he wore a Santa hat, and yes, it had a bell on it. “<em>Feliz Navidad!</em>” He handed Gustavo a dish. “Dessert, as promised. Vegan chocolate cranberry cake.”</p><p>“It looks delicious,” Gustavo said. It really did.</p><p>They enjoyed the meal together. Gale’s shyness melted quickly as he responded to Gustavo’s gentle conversation prompts, informed by what he had learned from reading his notes. Gale’s enthusiasm was like a sitting near a cozy fire—it reached cold places inside Gustavo that he thought would never be warm again.</p><p>He waited until dessert to pull out the DVDs. “I don’t know if you recall, but a few weeks ago when I visited, you shared a quote with me. There was a word I didn’t recognize—<em>Tookish</em>. As you know, English is not my first language. When I went to look it up later, I discovered it was not an English word at all, but from a series of books.”</p><p>Gale’s cheeks pinked. “You looked it up?” he echoed.</p><p>“Yes, and I’m happy I did. I read <em>The Hobbit</em> and enjoyed it.”</p><p>His cheeks got even pinker. “You did?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said, although that wasn’t quite true. He enjoyed that Gale would enjoy that he’d read it. “And then I found out there were movies…I was wondering. Would you care to watch them with me?”</p><p>Gustavo wished he had a camera to capture the expression on Gale’s face—pure, shy delight. “Tonight?”</p><p>“Yes, tonight.”</p><p>Gale did the dishes while Gustavo made popcorn. He enthused about Gustavo’s home entertainment center—bought for show, rarely used. Gustavo couldn’t remember the last time he watched a movie.</p><p>The movie was set up, and the lights dimmed. Gale made to sit in the armchair, but Gustavo patted the seat beside him on the sofa. “So we can share the popcorn,” he said.</p><p>For a moment, Gustavo feared his shyness would overcome him, but he gave in and settled beside him. Gale’s soft thigh pressed against his own, and a wave of warmth flooded over Gustavo—like coming in from the cold after a long, bleak winter’s night.</p><p>“So I understand that the movies are adaptations of books that are the sequels to <em>The Hobbit</em>, yes?” Gustavo asked, already knowing the answer.</p><p>“You haven’t read the rest of the books yet?” he asked. “You’re in for a treat! The movies are excellent adaptations, but there are a few key differences—”</p><p>Gustavo settled back and let it wash over him—the movie, Gale’s excited chatter, the warm weight of him against his side. He would not allow himself to be lulled just yet. But every day brought him closer to the destruction of his enemies. And once they were gone?</p><p>Gustavo would take Gale to bed, and let him teach him how to dream.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let's just say this is an AU where Walter White was never born and these two get a happily ever after. They deserve it. 😭</p><p>Thank you so much for the prompt, greenie - I had a blast writing this! 😘 I hope you enjoyed it, and Merry Christmas! 🎄</p></blockquote></div></div>
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